Immortalized
by helloiamkitty
Summary: Mr. Gold refuses to sell an item that, for some reason unknown, meant the whole world to him. AU (This story was started during the first/second season of OUaT) Rumpel/Blue Fairy
1. Chapter 1

Storybrooke:

Mr. Gold finished the last of the inventory, at least for that day, anyways. He sighed and glanced around his store. How could one tiny room hold so much?

He knew each object had its story and its proper owner, but, for now, they were his until someone was willing to pay their true values. If they were truly that important or valuable, then the buyer should be more than eager to pay.

Though, he couldn't quite recall when or where acquired his eclectic items. The absence of memory began to unsettle him. Mr. Gold—the purveyor of false hopes and promises—would never forget a deal made. How could he? After all, knowledge is power, and he needed to know as much as he could in order to _convince_ people to make a deal with him. Each piece had a story, an important story. So why couldn't he remember?

Mr. Gold, wanting to test the limits of his memory, walked towards the first object that caught his eye: a toy windmill. He studied if carefully and made sure that no detail went unnoticed. The toy windmill was actually part of a farm set. A makeshift pen that caged three cows and two pigs was placed underneath the imposing structure. Across from the pen was a worn-down shack that had three rooms.

"Three rooms?" he wondered. "How could I possibly tell that this toy house has three rooms?" This oddly specific piece of information stirred a sense of _familiarity_ (Could he really call this uncanny sensation that?) in the back of his mind. It had brought him one step closer to unraveling the mystery and yet, at the same time, left him more confused and lost than before.

Mr. Gold closed his eyes and tried to follow the strange feeling. The process was uncomfortable, the least to say. It felt like this brain was trying to cross a tar pit while navigating through a fog. But then, suddenly…he could…he could…he could _smell_ the crisp, cool wind that carried the scent of animal manure.

The little tinkles of bells broke his concentration and forced his attention to the door. No! No! He was so close to uncovering a clue! Where did this damned windmill come from? Why did he _smell_ manure? Why couldn't he remember anything? More importantly, who in their right mind would dare come into his shop after closing time? Well, except for the insolent and foolhardy Ms. Emma Swan, but she was a special case that Mr. Gold was willing to let slide. The unwanted visitor was in fact not Ms. Swan—which would actually make her a welcomed guest in this situation because she is somehow the key to all the mysteries of Storybrooke—but a middle-aged man.

He had a chubby, pale visage; clearly he had never seen the warm light of day or stepped out of his windowless cubical. His rectangular frames sat askew on the bridge of his nose. His brown, dry hair was in a mess. Desperation clearly emanated from the stranger. A cruel smirk began to spread across Mr. Gold's thin lips. He couldn't suppress his pleasure; after all, desperation was his specialty.

Forgetting his earlier contempt, the storekeeper greeted the unfortunate man with a supercilious, patronizing tone. "Welcome to my humble pawn shop. How may help you?" The man, who was distracted by the antiques that surrounded him, almost dropped his disheveled papers. He looked up, shocked, by the presence of the composed and imposing figure who almost seemed to appear from nowhere. Even though the frantic man maybe was a good three or four inches taller than this mysterious person, somehow he felt very small, like a child who was just caught snooping around in a place he shouldn't be.

The man tried to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. Words were stuck at the back of his throat. Eventually, he compelled his frozen tongue to stutter the inane question "You-you-you're the owner?"

Suppressing the uncouthly urge to roll his eyes, Mr. Gold responded, "Yes, I am. Now, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Um, yes," the customer began, "Yes, my daughter. My daughter's birthday's today. I need a present."

"On top of being a complete and utter mess, this pathetic excuse for a human being also procreated," the broker of deals snidely thought.

"Ah, yes. Well, my shop has plenty to offer. Please, take your time."

Keeping a cautious eye, Mr. Gold followed the frantic movements of the man. There was no way in high heaven that this wretched person could possibly pay for any damage he could cause in the midst of his search for the perfect gift.

The man suddenly stopped and shrieked with joy. He picked up with his chubby hands a trinket lost in the shadows of bigger items. Excitedly, he ran towards Mr. Gold, almost tripping over himself and nearly bringing down the model windmill with him, and presented the keeper of secrets the prized find.

Biting the impulse to through every insult he could think of, Mr. Gold gave a tight, wirily smile. "I see that you have found something good for your daughter. Let me ring that up for you." Without another word, Mr. Gold made his way to the counter. Hesitantly, the man followed the shop owner and handed the present.

Mr. Gold glanced down at a girl who wore a blue ball gown with matching heels and was made of glass and took it from the father. The figurine, despite being made purely of glass, felt as light as air. Maybe that was what she was smiling mischievously about—the secret to her lightness. Or maybe there was a bigger secret that was revealing itself in that ruby-painted smile. Unconsciously, Mr. Gold passed his thumb over the mocking lips and furiously cursed it for knowing something that he didn't. Maybe she knew the stories behind all of the items in his shop. The mere idea that someone else could possibly know more than him made his blood boil.

What was worse, though, were the nearly disproportionally large, brown eyes that pierced his being and made him feel naked under their scrutinizing gaze. Dread and guilt mixed with hope and happiness-an odd cocktail that he never thought imaginable.

Whoever created this master piece must have put his whole energy, love, and life into creating it.

With a hypnotized voice, Mr. Gold said, "I'm sorry, this particular item is not for sale." The wretched man made movements to protest, but before he could raise his objections, the storekeeper raised his hand to silence the middle-aged fool. No more words were exchanged, and the man left without a gift for his daughter.

In all his years of running the pawn shop (how many was that again?), Mr. Gold never not made a deal. Everybody had something to offer. If it wasn't money, then it was service or trading objects or information. So then why did he not sell the damnable figurine? Even that office worker could have been useful in some sort of capacity.

Unsure of what to do or what to make of this matter, the shop owner walked towards a painting that hung on a wall behind the counter. He lifted it off to reveal a secret safe. He opened the safe and gingerly placed the figurine inside in hopes of being able to forget everything that happened that evening.

He turned off the lights and finally left his shop.


	2. Chapter 2

Fairytale Land:

The crickets and the frogs that normally fill the night with songs and calls remained silent tonight. The grey clouds covered the twinkling stars in order to protect them from the impending horrors. The curious moon peaked from its protective covering and shone a beam of light onto an open field where stood two of the most powerful creatures in all the land.

"Rumpelstiltskin," the woman in blue shouted across the field, "please do not do this. You have no idea what the consequences are."

The golden man snorted. "You don't think I do?"

"I know what the main ingredient is. Do you honestly believe that enacting the curse will make anything better? Even in a world where you have total control, you'll still be that same bitter, desperate, man you still are now."

"How would you know this?"

The Blue Fairy lifted her chin in defiance of this almost omnipotent creature. With a steadfast confidence, she firmly replied, "Because good always wins." Rumpelstiltskin's mocking grin suddenly fell into a menacing grimace. His eyes that once glowed a crazed, self-assured cheekiness were now filled with dark hatred. The Blue Fairy desperately tried not to show on her face the fear that was spreading throughout her body. She could not—she would not—let this awful creature see her unnerved.

The imp's voice dripped with malice. "That's such a myopic way of thinking. I prefer to believe that everyone should have a chance to have his own happily-ever-after. Even the 'bad guys' have dreams, ambitions, and hopes, too." She knew this. She knew this all too well. Had he not told her all those years ago, when they were young and believed they were invincible, that he did not want to be casted as the "evil fairy" and that he wanted to write his own destiny? What would the younger Rumpelstiltskin say if he saw his older self?

Unsure of what else she could do, the Blue Fairy decided to travel a dangerous path. "But not at the expense of innocent lives. Don't you remember when you told me that you wanted to be more than what others expected you to be? That you wanted more than just being written off as the 'bad guy'? It's not too late, Rumpel-"

"Don't you ever call me by that name!" Rumpelstiltskin pointed an accusatory finger at the Blue Fairy. "You have no right!" His animosity cut her heart. Of course she knew she didn't have any rights to invoke his childhood name, especially not after she had betrayed him. But she had to. She had to betray him. Innocent people were being hurt, and she was the only one who could stop the pain! She had no other choice but to do the right thing. Though, doing the right thing did not lessen the guilt that weighed heavily on her heart.

The Blue Fairy implored her once friend to understand reason. "You don't know what you're messing with," she said forlornly. "This is dangerous magic. You could get yourself killed."

The snake-like imp sneered, "Aw, does the guardian of all things good and wonderful care about the scum of evil? Now, the question is whether it's all just a ploy and she's just trying to—poorly, might I add— save her own hide, or does she actually have feelings for the scum?" If Rumpelstiltskin were any other evil being, she would not hesitate to destroy it. But this was Rumpelstiltskin, the one person in the entire world she cared most about. She had to at least try to reason with him.

"Please, a lot of good people will get hurt," the Blue Fairy begged.

"And why should I care? What's in it for me?"

"Redemption," she plainly stated.

"Hum," Rumpelstiltskin mockingly pretended to consider this option. "Not interested. But I might be willing to make a deal." In a cloud of smoke, Rumpelstiltskin disappeared and reappeared behind the Blue Fairy. She couldn't help but let out a surprised gasp. His hot breath sent shivers down her spine. She was excited and terrified. The rush of being this close to him again, his woodland smell, his presence all clouded her head. She could feel her thoughts begin to muddle.

"You see, there's this gorgeous lass whom I've had my sights on for quite some time by now. It seems, though, it doesn't matter how great and magnificent of a catch I am, she still pushes my advancements away. Now, if she were to, let's say, willingly come with me, and then _I_ won't enact the Dark Curse."

As a fairy, the Blue Fairy had spent her life granting other people's wishes. Was there truly any harm in indulging herself and giving into her only wish? What was the point in giving other people—complete strangers!—their happy endings, if she couldn't have her own? After all, he said that he wouldn't enact the Dark Curse if she went with him…

"No, no deal." The words escaped her. She didn't realize what she had said until Rumpelstiltskin spat the words back at her.

"No deal? What? The being of all that is good refuses to make a deal that would result in the safety of countless live? How curious, indeed. Maybe she isn't as righteous or selfless like everyone believes?" Rumpelstiltskin tried to sound playful and dismissive, but the hurt still crept into his voice. It was the perfect deal, after all. At least, it seemed like it.

The Blue Fairy, still confused, tore herself away from the imp and walked away from him. Each step brought her a new sense of clarity and renewed sense of conviction. Finally, when she felt she was far enough from his influence, she turned to face her greatest foe. "I know how you operate: you use words like weapons; you twist and distort them to fit your selfish needs and wants and then use them against your helpless victims!" Of course, of course! There was no such thing as the perfect deal with Rumpelstiltskin. Someone always had to get hurt.

"Clever girl," he sneered. "You know, I always knew you were a cut above everybody else. You pay attention; you stay attentive; you are always on guard."

"I'm sorry, Rumpel," the Blue Fairy said, "but this is my job. I have to do what is right." She tried to hold back her tears. She wanted to forget the past. She wanted to pretend that they were never friends. She wanted to erase the love and pain that came with this terrible, evil imp?

But could she really let go of her reminiscences of him? Was she truly willing to abandon the sweet memories they shared? Could she forget the special kiss they had before everything went to hell?

Why did every encounter with Rumpel had to end so horribly?

Before she could say anything more, Rumpelstiltskin, in a fit of rage, conjured a curse. The Blue Fairy barely dodged it. Judging by the furious crimson color of the curse, she could tell that he meant to maim her. If this was how he was going to be, so be it. The time for talking was now over.

The Blue Fairy retaliated with her own curse but missed him by inches.

The night sky lit up with beautiful hues of greens, blues, yellows, reds. If anybody were to see the light show, then they would think a celebration was taking place.

The Blue Fairy, in an unfortunate accident, tripped over a rock and fell. Rumpelstiltskin, drunk on pent-up furry, seized the opportunity and conjured a purple spell.

The Blue Fairy, in a puff of smoke, disappeared. The only vestige of her presence was the blue cape that fell helplessly to the ground. Not so much as a scream left from her lips, but the look of betrayal spoke more loudly to Rumpelstiltskin than any scream or plea for mercy. Her brown eyes held so many emotions that the imp couldn't even begin to name all of them. Betrayal, sorrow, hopelessness, imploring…each and every one stung his heart.

Rumpelstiltskin walked over to the cape and knelt beside it. For a moment caressed the soft velvet with his calloused fingers. He then lifted it to his face and rubbed it on his cheek. Her scent, still fresh, transported him to happier times, when they were young and carefree, when love knew no bounds. Their fingers entwined and hands fiercely holding on to one another, as if afraid that the other one would disappear if they let go.

Something hit the grass with a soft thud. From the folds of the cape fell a glass figurine. The purple curse was meant to eradicate her. The Blue Fairy must had casted a protection spell before it hit her.

A hot tear rolled down his cheek. Soon after, more searing tears came pouring down from his eyes. His vision became blurry. The fabric caught his tears.


End file.
